Search

clcouch123

I talk you talk we'll talk

Tag

Sunday

On the First Day

(x = space)

x

x

On the First Day

x

It’s Sunday

The day Al Roker

Announces in

An echo chamber

I’m not sure why

Maybe his mother

Told him to

Maybe because

It’s game day

I’ll have church

In a little while

Service and Sunday

School in a virtual

(and, yes,

hopefully virtuous)

Way

And the day will continue

We’re expecting snow

In the afternoon,

Over night into

Monday morning,

Which could make

The commute

A mess

x

C L Couch

x

x

Photo by alexey turenkov on Unsplash

Published 1h ago

x

Chaotica

(x = space)

x

x

Chaotica

x

Lord,

It’s a good day

For normal praying

x

In churches everywhere

There will be choruses

That say it right

x

But my prayer

Is cacophony,

Nothing regular

Or regularly rhythmed out

x

I hope you will forgive that,

All the off-pitch, off-key

Murmuring,

Uneven humming through

The perfect angel-layering

Of formal prayers

x

But I need you;

I need your company

x

You could simply sit close by,

And maybe we’d say nothing

To each other

And somehow know

Eternity is hearing

Everything as it should

x

Everything that’s needed

To respond just right

To an uneven,

Lopsided,

Person praying badly

x

Out of place

In whatever place

x

C L Couch

x

x

Photo by Daniele Levis Pelusi on Unsplash

x

Apologies

(x = space)

x

x

Apologies

(and Philippians 4:8)

x

Oh, dear, it’s Sunday

And there’s nothing in my

Sometimes Protestant, suburban mind

To share

I didn’t pay attention to the sermon

(too many points)

Or the meaning of the lyrics

(one broad and unconvincing point),

Though I’ll say the problem

Is inside my head,

What’s left of my heart

And there are those who had their

Sabbath, starting Friday,

And those who have a time for

Sabbath every day

I could envy

x

And is there something I can say?

Think on these things

With the Philippians,

Which might be a good list

For anyone

x

C L Couch

x

x

Photo by Dariusz Mejer on Unsplash

Babylon, United States

x

Tell the Beadle

(x = space)

x

x

Tell the Beadle

x

I had church today with friends

Five hundred miles from here,

And I am thankful

x

I’m not sure what it means or

How it counts, and I guess mostly

I don’t care

x

There was prayer and conversation,

And God was mentioned many

Times and Jesus

x

I think if there were an attendance

Book, our names could be

Fairly entered

x

As it is, computers have recorded

In theirs pathways our participation so

Cybernetic stars

x

C L Couch

x

x

Sayq, Ad Dakhiliyah ‍Governorate, Oman

x

Frozen Yellow Rose

(x = space)

x

x

Frozen Yellow Rose

x

Is this a prose-poem or an essay or a Sunday homily (the text would be the Good Samaritan)?  I don’t know, but here it is.  Something I heard at church from those who were there.  I mean, were there in Houston.

x

here’s what happened in Houston (Texas, USA) yesterday:

most homes do not have fireplaces and instead rely on electricity to power furnaces for heat and appliances for cooking and computers, but the power grid is out, it’s blank in Houston;

in grills or in makeshift places, Duralogs were burned and any wood that could be found or any charcoal left from summer or, indeed in a deep Southern place, the last time there was a barbecue;

the feeling was post-apocalyptic

there was a certain grocery store that powered up enough generators to preserve food and to allow people inside safely, though the numbers who could enter at a time were severely limited (because there is a pandemic raging ‘round the world and through Houston); this meant that there were thousands outside the store in line, waiting for their turn;

keep in mind it’s extra winter there just now, the temperature having gone into the teens during the day;

the manager of this grocery store or maybe it was the owner, walked up and down the line outside and said to folks, if you can’t pay for your groceries just now, don’t worry—get what your family needs, bread and baby food and such;

according to those who were there, this kind of thing was happening all over the city

coda

this does not account or provide sustenance for those assailed by the crisis of collapsing glacial ice in India that has stolen the lives of scores of people; this does not take care of COVID-19 or provide vaccine, something that the world sorely needs; this does not answer all the problems and frankly all the disasters that we suffer with here and there on planet Earth; it is a single story, and maybe we could let it have the power of a single story, which like creation stories or apocalypses or “The Gift of the Magi” or “The Artist of the Beautiful,” can be, well, pretty powerful

x

C L Couch

x

x

Power Failure: How a Winter Storm Pushed Texas into Crisis

https://www.houstonchronicle.com/news/article/Power-failure-How-a-winter-storm-pushed-Texas-15967411.php

Around 2 a.m. Monday, the full measure of the crisis Texas faced began to be apparent. Cold and ice had set in the day before, leading to spreading power outages across the state.

x

Photo by Vlad Busuioc on Unsplash

Downtown, Houston, Texas, United States

drone view of a city

x

The Book of Numbers

(x = space)

x

x

The Book of Numbers

(in pandemic time)

x

Lots of twos and ones

Tomorrow

And a zero,

And there could be church:

I think I’d cherish

Learning someone else’s

Story

If in a cyber way

x

To understand

How a narrative fits

Into the weaving,

The puzzle

Of the one great story

In which we each

Have a page

x

Monochrome

Or colorful

Burnt along the edges,

Gilded for the saints

After all the torn-up

Parts have been

Repaired

x

Not a book of judgment

Not a cache of

Clever evidence;

Rather the story of us

In part

And all the rest of us

And God inside, above

With tired angels

Tirelessly binding

Fixing binding

All the time

x

C L Couch

(for 2/21/2021)

x

x

Photo by Paulius Dragunas on Unsplash

Antelope Canyon, United States

Ladder to Nowhere

(reasonable skeptic)

x

Beadling

(x = space)

x

x

Beadling

(pandemic time)

x

It’s Sunday

I thought it was Saturday

Maybe you’re having this problem, too

So I should think church

(good Catholic or Protestant

Christian)

And I do

Though I don’t think I’ll go

Until the year of doing nothing

Has expired

Nothing but science and care

I do what I can

Pray for them

Send bits of money

Wait

Wish it were all over

For the living to be living

More fully

Perhaps more mindfully

Again

x

C L Couch

x

x

(a beadle, church officer, bearing

a rod with a feather at one end and a heavy ball

or other weight at the other

not for adults do we spare the rod

depending on how deeply was the parishioner

snoozing, he or she got one end or the other)

x

x

Photo by Evie S. on Unsplash

x

Such and Such a Church in Louisville, Kentucky

Such a Church in Louisville, Kentucky

 

I hope it is still there

The black church I attended Sunday morning

Louisville in 1983

We were the only white folk there

The service went for hours (yes, it did)

And we were made so welcome

I’d like to have stayed for hours more

For Presbyterians, there was a lot of moving

 

Clapping and the singing was fantastic

Because they meant it

(it was tuneful, too)

The praying must have gone straight to heaven

Having made faithful conduits

Such an ordinary feature

 

We would have more meetings

Take our leave and go our separate ways

But we were together, then

Sinews in a toned body of

A holy congregation ‘round the world

When such people meet for such a purpose

Holy, holy, holy

 

C L Couch

 

 

Photo by Akira Hojo on Unsplash

Reykjavík, Iceland

 

Blessed Insurance [and a note below]

Blessed Insurance

(for anyone on Sunday morning)

 

I sing this while

My world falls apart

My older child might run away

My job is on the line

 

The car needs so much work

I haven’t seen or felt

My partner smile, really smile

In a while

 

I don’t want to know

The balances

I can’t think about what happens next

Can’t think about what else

 

The church organ might be better

Suited at a ball park

The pastor tries to sing along

I think I see the words on the page

 

There is no harm in singing, too

I guess

Who hears, who cares

I know it isn’t that bad

 

C L Couch

 

 

Image by PhotoGrafix from Pixabay

 

 

note on me

I’m not in the hospital anymore.  I’ve been diagnosed with infections and am taking an antibiotic.  I still feel lousy.  Maybe less?  It’s hard to tell.  Thank you for your prayers!  They are potent.

 

Create a free website or blog at WordPress.com.

Up ↑